1909 Hours, February 21, 2551 (Military Calendar) \ A.I. shuttlecraft, Gunnhild System, 12 Hours from Laxardal.

Nursing the bandaged gash on her forehead, Sara sat expressionless, a thousand-yard stare passing through her father. He took no notice of her, or tried not to anyway. They had lost the other two Ryders only an hour ago. Neither wanted to believe it. The total cessation of thought or interaction with reality was their reprieve from the pain.

That Sara's father had not said anything about their mother being with them, stowed away… too painful to think of, Sara.

The shuttle pilot let out an almost explosive sigh. He had not the luxury of closing off his mind, but instead focused on the cruiser they passed under. For some reason the raiding ship refused to stop spinning on its axis, and that made docking with the relatively small shuttle bay, located just ahead of and under the engine block, needlessly obnoxious.

Nearby, a large green shuttle craft sat relatively motionless in space. The raider's hangar was so small it quite literally could only fit two boats inside at a time, and it already seemed at full capacity.

The pilot flipped a switch on the console, and Sara snapped back to reality. Funny what gets your attention, she thought glumly. "UNSC DD-993, requesting docking guidance, over," spoke the pilot. There was some audible feedback before he signed off and began the manoeuvre.

Sara got up and shifted to the cockpit, watching from above the pilot. Their shuttle now appeared still, having matched its rotation with the starship. It slowly raised (or descended, for space is entirely as you orient it) into the bowels of the ship. A mechanical arm gripped the side of their shuttle once they reached the ceiling, holding them still. The blast doors closed beneath them.

The pilot looked around the hangar. "Cosy." Sara may have made a similar joke another time. Not then.

"Shuttle craft, be aware you are now being pressurised. Do not exit until all-clear is given, over."

"Copy, over."

Sara listened in and thought of how much the controller sounded like any typical Alliance or Council dockyard worker. So normal. Not at all the voice of destruction. It was unnerving.

After a brief moment, there was a hiss outside the hull and the ceiling above them opened up. They had been in a massive airlock apparently. The mechanical arm raised them to the main room, where they were shifted to another arm as the first returned to the airlock, which finally closed and formed a solid floor beneath them.

The hangar was far more complete than the bare airlock below. The pilot, for one, felt a little embarrassed for not immediately realising it had essentially been an antechamber. The real hangar: random crates, assorted tools, wall-mounted equipment, another massive shuttlecraft, a few armed marines in green fatigues. Sara could well have been on any ship in the world. The only difference was the utterly utilitarian aesthetic. It was ugly, even unpainted in some areas.

"Come on, let's go get this over with." Sara turned to see the speaker, Addison. Temporary director of colonial affairs. A very temporary director if things went poorly in the next minutes and hours.

All but slamming the button that unlatched the shuttle door, Addison emerged into the chilly air on the enemy raider. Sara looked once at her father, who did not look back. She followed Addison outside, followed in turn by the estranged dad.

Marines, weapons raised, wearily approached. Their fingers lay ever so slightly off of their triggers. Evidently, they did not want or expect a fight. A tall blonde in a smart white uniform followed behind them. She spoke in a thick accent Ryder could not place: "Please cooperate and allow a pat-down, we must search you for weapons."

"We followed your demands," Addison protested.

"I'm sure you did," the lady replied. "But we must have proof. Please." She nodded to her marines.

They advanced again, this time with purpose and speed. Two flanked the Initiative crew, another two slung their rifles around their shoulders and got to work on the patting. First on the Ryder escorts, then on Addison. To their credit, they did their best not to intrude too brusquely. Once satisfied, they moved back to their CO.

"Great, I may officially welcome you aboard the humble Boomerang. Follow me now."

Grimly, Sara lampooned the 'warm welcome' under her breath. She thought one of the marines may have heard as she walked by him, by the slight jerk of his head. Had she been any braver, or dumber, she may have smacked shoulders with him. Of course, she recognised four well-armed men could quite quickly cut her down if they wanted.

Then again, she was also too engrossed in thought to act. Everyone had assumed they had been targeted by a raiding ship. But, as was becoming clearer by the moment, as they passed random personnel throughout the ship, saw more areas, and after their introduction – this seemed more and more like a professional Navy than any kind of pirate outfit Sara had ever seen or heard of. In a rare moment of attempted cooperation, she looked to her father for guidance but received none. His eyes lay straight ahead, empty of expression or awareness.

Sara knew that, soon enough, when emotions were exhausted, and fatigue set in, she too would feel the full impact of the day's events.

Once off an elevator (going up), they were led by the blonde to a small, unassuming room. There sat two chairs around an exceedingly small table. Two schoolkids on a play date would have had trouble fitting little food-shaped plastics on it.

"Sorry about the size, this is a warship. No comforts allowed, right?" The woman smiled, trying to make a joke. It brought no smiles to their faces. More than three dozen had died in the moments following the attack. "Please, sit Miss." Addison sat, the nameless blonde sat opposite. The Ryders stood behind their director, and two of the marines, armed with SMGs, leaned against the wall behind their own CO. Sara was beginning to doubt if her father would be effective in even recognising an impending firefight. He was just going through the motions.

What followed were three gruelling, escalating, and hostile hours of questioning. After the first, names began to fly. Slurs directed towards Swedes continued even after their mystery interrogator informed Addison she was a Finn. Accusations of psychosis. Sara threw a few insults and criticisms in too, though at both Addison and the mystery woman. By the end, all three were in a foul mood. Sara, otherwise unexperienced with the director to that point, had decided she did not like the woman one bit. Though Sara was obviously contributing to the problem, if Addison hadn't been so pig-headed towards the blonde the Initiative may have got a better deal in the end.

The Marines had sat there smirking the whole time, but for once (prudes), interested, but otherwise silent. Sara's father had stood expressionless, not once speaking up. So forgotten was he, nobody even addressed or mentioned him.

The information gleaned by the UNSCN personnel, however, was considerable. Sara did not know what knowledge of great import the blonde had gathered, but she could infer from the questions asked that there was a great deal of interest in where exactly the Initiative was from, and specifically about the technology on the Hyperion.

That total confusion was the Finn's response to Addison's statement that the Initiative was from the Milky Way equally confused Sara. The blonde had said no more on the topic after that little tidbit, but something about her reaction… Sara was worried. Had they somehow ended up back in the Milky Way? There were other humans here. And, after all, it was physically impossible for the Nexus or the other Arks to have arrived so far in advance of the Hyperion that they could have established a society capable of building warships that also did not remember there was another Ark out there.

Further explanation of the Initiative, about its intent to explore and settle the Andromeda galaxy, only further grew the consternation of their interrogator, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

Worrying indeed, Sara thought to herself.

Still, Sara had learned about their interrogator. She worked for the UNSCN, a human-only Naval force. This was a standard 'destroyer' type ship, essentially analogous to the role of a cruiser as Sara knew it. When she asked why the Hyperion had been attacked, she had been told it was classified, for the moment. No amount of bribing had swayed the interrogator either. Yet more evidence of a truly professional outfit.

There was also a little black-white pyramid on top of the sheet of paper the blonde was reading question from (though she clearly asked some of her own intuition and curiosity). Underneath was written 'ONI,' and in a circle around the insignia, 'SEMPER VIGILANS'. Ominous.

The only thing Sara hadn't received any direct reply to was the question of the name of her mystery woman. She had merely received some kind of knowing look. Even the three gold bars and a gold star on her white jacket did not correlate to the ranks that Sara knew and used.

In the end, the blonde closed her folder on the insignia-stamped papers and left the room with her Marines. Perhaps she simply could not get anything useful from the now well and truly pissed prisoners.

Addison turned to Sara once it was just them and Sara's basically absentee father left in the room. He had not seemed to react at all since the deaths. Sara had been, for the most part, distracted from those thoughts since the end of their shuttle ride. Thankfully.

"Nice to see you taking sides," Addison remarked. Bitch that she is, thought Sara.

"Sides? As if. For all I know she was the one with the finger on the button."

"Didn't stop you two from ganging up on me."

"Don't get bitter, I was just standing up to stupidity." Sara was getting riled again.

"Stupidity? Really? Coming from you..."

"What would you call it? Going and calling her names like that is the reason we're now officially under arrest. Great fuckin' 'deal' by the way. Good job. I'm sure the guys on the Hyperion will be so pleased to hear that-"

"Like you did anything to calm the situation. I recall it was you who accused her of being a 'total psycho'."

"Yeah, right after she ignored that part when you told her how many died and she brushed it off."

"Ah, so it's okay when you do it, Ryder? You can say no wrong?" Addison remarked smugly.

"Fuck off." Sara paused to think in the silent moment between the two. "This is your fault."

"Remember who's in charge here."

"You above criticism too now?"

"No, but I don't have to take it from you."

"Actually, you do. As far as I'm aware prison is where the strongest reign, and I-"

"Shut up. Both of you." Father Ryder finally spoke. "Why don't you show some goddamn decorum. And brains. They are probably listening right now."

Addison looked up at the ceiling, sighing, tired. Sara looked disdainfully at her. Day seven in Andromeda (maybe), she made a note to herself. Family dead. Father physically there but nobody home, except when he wants to put me down, as usual. Ship gutted internally. Under arrest. Made enemies with one of the guys in charge. Good start.


Liam Kosta looked outside the window of an utterly average hallway on the Nexus and saw an utterly unaverage sight outside. Two massive warships, the most enormous he had ever seen, were sitting just a few kilometres away. Each was designated with the word MARATHON, then followed by UNSCN CA-70 CANBERRA (on the closest), and UNSCN CA-82 FEELING LUCKY (on the farther). Dozens of smaller ships marked HALBERD darted around on patrol, the exact same class as that which had ambushed them. More, of totally differently shapes, lazed around or joined patrols. They were marked CHARON, PARIS, or STALWART. Small dots of light, almost unnoticed amongst the blanket of stars save for the speed with which they moved, were fighter craft on escort or patrol duty. Massive fighter craft. Liam had seen one do a close pass. They were half as large as an Alliance frigate.

And if all this was what was in visible range, then there was going to be far more for at least a one million-kilometre diameter, if they had any tactical sense.

Evidently, the Initiative had stirred up a crisis, and this was the 'UNSCN's' response. Liam thought he could have done better. Certainly less lethal.

Dragging himself away from the window, he walked down the messy corridor. Scratches and scuffs, loose panels and instruments, littered it. When the initial blast had come, it wasn't so bad. A brief rumble in the distance. It had been the immediate aftermath that did the most damage to the rest of the ship. Power had immediately become intermittent. Some sections stopped pumping air automatically, others lost artificial gravity or, far worse, had their gravity go haywire, as had evidently happened here.

While the director, pathfinder, and their escort had left to negotiate an hour after the ambush, the rest hadn't even solved a single problem in the rest of the ship. All they could do was comply, begin deceleration until reaching a total halt, and deactivate their shielding. The Hyperion was not a combat vessel, and probably could not hope to defeat DD-993 even if it had tried. They had been well and truly ambushed. Liam wasn't even aware of all the details considering both the chaos and the sheer speed with which they were brought to heel by the enemy. Nobody really knew what was happening.

Enemy. Not even a full week gone and already in a pickle. Liam was an optimistic fellow, in general, but even he could not deny that things were looking rough. Still, at least power was stable for the time being.

After a short walk, he reached the Hyperion's CIC, ready to make his report. He found only a dark-skinned woman, and Cora Harper, who had assisted Liam with collecting the wounded in the immediate aftermath. The CIC had been utterly trashed, the fixings thrown about by gravity gone out of control. A few blood stains marked particularly hard edges. Liam had not been in the room until that moment, and could only hope the wounded had hit their limbs or torso, not their heads.

"Liam!" Cora called. She looked tired and… rattled was not the right word, but nervous nonetheless to Liam's eyes. "Nice to see a familiar face. This is Lani Reed, she's the Hyperion's pilot." As Liam approached he noticed the woman's arm was stiff and unnatural. A fresh wound too.

"Pleased to meet you." He shook her good arm. "You had that looked at?" Liam asked, motioning to the other.

"Yes, briefly. I'll manage on this, there are others who need more serious attention." She nodded to the blood stains.

"Shit."

"Indeed."

Cora looked to Liam, approached him. "Liam, we're in a situation."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

"No. A new one. We just got word from Addison, through the raider. We are surrendering the Hyperion. Outright."

"Outright? You mean…"

"Yeah, we're all under arrest apparently, or something. She wasn't so clear. We're to let a boarding party on once we can confirm gravity control is locked down and secure."

"Goddamn. I thought they went to negotiate."

"They did. Looks like things didn't go to plan. Now, we're considering our options."

Liam cocked his head. "What options? We don't have any shipboard weapons. Even if we did, have you seen the fleet they've got outside? I don't think having our asses turned inside out is how anybody wants to start this mission."

"Well, nobody wants to start it in a jail cell either, on who knows what charge for how long. You ever read Gulag Archipelago? It's real informative."

Liam sighed, deeply. A breath he had held unconsciously. Grim tidings indeed.

"Look Liam, I know this is brash, but we need to do something. If we don't, everyone on this ship has come 600 years just to end up looking at blank walls in a small cell, at best. We don't even have real leadership right now. You want to really help?"

Shaking his head, knowing better, Liam acquiesced. "Yeah. What's the plan?"

"We're still getting the particulars ironed out, but we want to blast out of here at FTL, make our way to one of the other Ark locations."

"So, particulars is basically just… everything other than intent, so far," Lani interjected.

"Well," Liam started. "Let's get it figured out then. And the leadership, by the way? Their escort? The shuttle pilot?"

Lani looked to Cora. "They may have to get out of there on their own. They certainly were happy to leave us to the wolves."


Notes: You may notice a lack of SAM in this story so far. I think SAM is a terrible plot device, and has no place in story telling. As for little changes like Addison being present from moment one... I will take little liberties such as this every once in a while. It's fan fiction after all!

Needless to say, I am undertaking to make Sara far more likeable than she is in the game, while also being less of a doofus, while still being young and not quite as hard-boiled as Shepard or Master Chief. Likewise, worry not about Liam and Cora, and their ilk on the *Hyperion* (that is, worry not if you do not like them!). They are secondary to the time which Sara and the UNSC will receive. This is, in essence, a fish out of water story, and I think these stories work better with only one fish.